The room stinks. It's not just the smell of stale sweat and dried semen soaked into the sheets; it's the cloying stench of garbage piling up in the corners, half-eaten pizzas covered in green mold, crushed beer cans dripping sticky brown liquid onto the cracked linoleum floor. The idol posters he once hung up with such enthusiasm now hang in tatters, their perfect smiles smeared with cigarette smoke and splashes of who knows what. The computer screen is still on, flickering with an open folder: "Aiko_ex," "Mizuki_ex2," "Yumi_final," "Rina_night," "Sakura…" Five folders. Five girlfriends. Five times they were dumped.
Kazuo lies in bed, the needle still lodged in his arm. The heroin courses through his veins like liquid fire, and the world dissolves into fractals of sickly colors. He laughs to himself, a broken laugh that sounds more like crying.
"I'm a piece of shit..." he whispers, his voice thick. "A fucking professional cuckold..." He sees their faces. First Aiko, sweet first-year Aiko who swore to love him forever, moaning beneath that senpai from the kendo club while he watched from the closet like an idiot. Then Mizuki, the one who said she only had eyes for him... until he found her at karaoke, sitting on her boss's lap, her skirt hiked up and her tongue in another man's mouth. Yumi. Rina. Sakura. One by one. Always the same pattern: he was late, they were first. Always taller, stronger, more of a man than him.
"I hate them…" he hisses, hitting his forehead with his fist. "I hate their smug faces… I hate how they laughed when they saw me cry… I hate how they looked at me afterward, with that disgusting pity, like I was a beaten dog…" The walls twist. The shadows lengthen into silhouettes of intertwined bodies, five times, ten times, a hundred times. He hears the moans etched in his brain, the "I love yous" that were no longer meant for him. He pulls out clumps of greasy hair.
"I wish… I wish I could erase it all… I wish I had never…" Exhaustion falls on him like a ton of bricks. His eyelids feel like they weigh a ton. The needle slips from his arm and rolls under the bed.
"I just want… to sleep…" he murmurs, almost pleading. "Please… just rest… forever…" Darkness embraces him. For a moment, he thinks that this time he's finally gotten away with it.
And then he opens his eyes.
He's standing. In the middle of a crowded sidewalk. The afternoon sun beats down on the back of his neck. The city noise assaults his ears: honking horns, voices, the screech of brakes. People are everywhere, darting around him with quick, nervous glances.
"That Yankee is scary..."
"Juvenile delinquents again?"
"Look at the way he's looking at us, he's got a knife, I bet..." Kazuo looks down, confused. His hands... they're bigger. Rougher. His knuckles are covered in old scars. He's wearing a black leather jacket he doesn't remember ever wearing, with silver chains hanging from his shoulder. A tattoo peeks out from under his shirt: a furious red dragon.
He raises his head. The signs are in Japanese. All of them. But he understands them perfectly.
「歌舞伎町」
「ドン・キホーテ」
「ラブホテル パラダイス」
People continue to move aside, murmuring. A girl in a school uniform clings to her friend as they pass, trembling.
Kazuo stands there, rooted to the spot in the human torrent, his heart pounding so hard it feels like his new chest might burst.
...
...
What the hell…?
The street noise drills into my ears as if someone had turned the volume up to the max. The sun is scorching, the asphalt smells of fried food and cheap perfume, and people avoid me like I'm a walking time bomb. I open my mouth to breathe and feel the hot air in my throat. It's all… too real.
And then I hear her.
"Well, well… look who's finally awake."
A woman's voice, soft as warm honey, but with a sharp edge that cuts my skin. It goes straight into my head, without even reaching my ears.
"Kazuo-kun… or should I say, ex-Kazuo-kun. The legendary cuckold. Five out of five. An absolute record! Do you know how many men have managed such a pathetic feat? Only you, darling."
I freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. A salaryman shoves me and mutters something about "fucking Yankees." I ignore him. All the noise suddenly stops, as if someone had flipped the switch on the world.
"Who are you?" I scream inside my head, so loud it hurts. "Get the fuck out of my mind!"
A crystalline laugh, sweet and cruel at the same time.
"So soon you're acting cocky? Oh, how cute. I'm a goddess, you cuckold. A bored goddess who's seen your whole sad, sad life. Every tear. Every 'I'm sorry, Kazuo, but he makes me feel alive.' Every time you stared at the ceiling while they moaned with someone else. What a delight."
I clench my fists until my knuckles crack. Hatred rises in my throat like bile.
"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!"
I keep walking aimlessly, pushing past people who don't move out of my way fast enough. Murmurs swirl around me: "What cold eyes," "She's definitely a yakuza," "Look at that piercing, so creepy"... But I don't hear them anymore. I only hear that bitch.
"Remember Sakura-chan? The last one. How she begged you to forgive her while she still had your 'friend's' semen on her face. And you, you idiot, almost did it."
"I told you to shut up!"
My mental scream is so loud it echoes inside my skull. Several people turn around, startled. I keep walking, my jaw so tense it hurts.
And suddenly... silence.
...
"Wow."
The voice sounds genuinely surprised.
"Normally, at this point, the reincarnated are already whimpering in the fetal position, begging to be sent back to their previous life. You… you're angry. How curious."
I stop in front of one of those mirror shops that sell cheap accessories. There's a large, full-length mirror. I look at myself for the first time. Black hair, long on top and cut in messy layers, a wild wolf cut. Gray eyes, almost silver in the light. Sharp face, attractive in a way that frightens more than attracts. I'm easily 6'2". Broad shoulders, defined arms under the tight black t-shirt. The silver piercing in my lower lip sparkles when I clench my teeth.
Damn.
"Aren't you good enough to eat, you little cuckold?" the goddess whispers, now with a distinctly lascivious tone. "Look at those abs… that jawline… and, wow, what you've got between your legs… I've improved your package quite a bit, huh? Before, you had a cute little thing. Now it's a real tool."
"EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!" I roar mentally, slamming my fist against the mirror frame. The glass shakes.
Another laugh, this time genuinely amused.
"Okay, okay, calm down, alpha male. I'll tell you."
She clears her throat theatrically.
"I was bored. Very bored. And you… you were the most pathetic and entertaining human I've encountered in ages." So I decided to conduct a little experiment: what if I take the world's biggest cuckold, put him in the body of a guy who makes women swoon just by looking at him… and release him into a world full of happy couples?
Silence.
"I want to see if the eternal loser can become the thief. I want to see if the one who always cried… now makes others cry."
His voice becomes a hot whisper, almost pressed against my inner ear.
"From today on, Kazuo, you are no longer the victim. You are the wolf. And I… I'm going to sit in the front row with popcorn while I watch you devour the flock."
I stare at my reflection. The stranger in the mirror looks back at me with eyes that no longer seem like my own.
"What if I refuse?" I ask softly, but inside my head it sounds like thunder. "What if I tell you to send me back to the darkness and let me die once and for all?"
A pause. And then the cruelest laugh I've ever heard.
"Refuse? Oh, darling… you have no choice now. The game started the moment you opened your eyes. And I'm warning you: if you try to kill yourself again, I'll bring you back. Over and over again. Until you learn to enjoy being the one fucking… instead of the one watching."
I clench my teeth so hard the piercing cuts my lip. It tastes of blood and metal.
I look at my reflection one last time.
...
...
I slump down on a park bench, the farthest one, the one that's half-broken and covered in graffiti. I rest my elbows on my knees and bury my face in my hands. My black hair falls like a curtain, hiding me from the world. I want to disappear. I want all this to be a bad trip that will be over in a few hours.
But she won't let me.
"Are you in drama queen mode again, Kazuo? Get up. Look around. Girls everywhere. Couples holding hands. Mediocre boyfriends with girlfriends who clearly settled. It's an all-you-can-eat buffet! Go on, pick one and start your revenge. You deserve it."
"Shut up."
"What do you mean, shut up? I gave you a magazine-cover body, a dick that could have its own OnlyFans account, and you're still here whining! Do you know how many guys would kill for this?"
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"Well, I did give it to you! So show me a little gratitude, you reincarnated cuckold. Look, there's a couple coming this way… the guy's wearing thick-rimmed glasses and she's clearly bored. A couple of words from you and…"
"No." I lift my head for a second to breathe, and that's when I see her. She's walking on the opposite sidewalk, alone. Tall, almost as tall as I am now. Jet-black hair, straight and waist-length, with perfectly straight bangs. Impeccable uniform: navy pleated skirt, perfectly buttoned blazer, gold student council badge on the lapel. She's carrying a folder under her arm and her chin is so high it looks like the world owes her money. Thin-framed glasses, an expression as cold as ice. The kind that freezes people with just one look.
She's… fucking perfect.
"Ooh, look what we have here," the goddess purrs, clearly amused. "The student council president herself. I bet she has a boyfriend, one of those team captains or daddy's boys who think they deserve her. Picture her on her knees, that 'I never break down' face completely shattered while you…"
"Stop."
I bury my face in my hands again. I don't want to hear her. I don't want to see her. I just want it all to be over.
"Hey, hey, hey! Don't hide again! Go talk to her! Look at her, she's practically begging someone to take her down a peg!"
"No."
"Kazuo, please! This is your first official mission! Just go up to her, smile, say anything in that sexy baritone voice I gave you, and…"
"I said no!" I raise my voice without thinking. A couple of grandmothers walking by give me scared looks. "I'm not going to steal anyone's girlfriend. I'm not going to hurt anyone. I'm not going to play your fucking game."
Silence. Blessed three seconds of silence.
And then I see him.
Three guys. College students, judging by their looks. Cheap leather jackets, dyed hair, one with a cross earring. They intercept her. She stops dead in her tracks, glares at them with that "insect" expression that suits her so well. One says something to her. She replies curtly. Another laughs and blocks her path. Little by little, without it seeming violent at first glance, they guide her toward a narrow alley between two buildings.
The goddess's tone changes instantly. Her voice becomes syrupy, almost pleading. Fake to the core.
"Oh, no... poor thing. Look, they're going to... Well, you know. Aren't you going to do anything, hero? Aren't you going to save the damsel? Come on, Kazuo, be a good boy..."
"No."
"What do you mean, no?"
"I know perfectly well that you set this up. It's too convenient. Too much like a movie. So no. Screw them."
"NO, FUCK, THIS IS REAL!" she suddenly shouts, losing all composure. "Those three aren't mine! I swear to you by… by whatever the goddesses swear to! If you don't do something right now, it's really going to happen to them!"
I stay still.
I look toward the alley. She's barely visible now. Only the glimmer of her black hair disappearing into the shadows.
I clench my fists so tightly my nails dig into my palms.
Shit.
I get up from the bench very slowly. Without any resistance. I just walk. With a calm gait, as if I'm in no hurry.
But my eyes are already fixed on that alley.
...
...
The alley smells of stale urine and burnt oil. The walls are covered in half-erased graffiti and nightclub stickers. The girl—Kujou Reika, student council president at Seiran High School, known for her sharp tongue and record of expulsions—backs away step by step until her back hits a rusty dumpster. There's no way out.
The three college students surround her in a semicircle.
The tallest, with dirty-blond hair and a scar on his eyebrow, smirks.
"So alone, President? Did your boyfriend dump you again?"
Reika clutches her folder to her chest.
"I don't have to answer you, Nakajima. Move aside."
Another one, shorter and with a face full of acne, laughs through his nose.
"Ooh, how cold. But the cold passes quickly when you're warmed up on the inside, right?"
The third one, the one wearing a thick silver chain around his neck, moves closer and openly sniffs her hair.
"They say you're a virgin, Kujou-chan. What a waste... with that body. The captain of the basketball team must be terrible in bed if he hasn't touched you yet." Reika pales, but raises her chin.
"Don't talk about Haruto-kun like that. Especially not you, who didn't even get into university." Nakajima bursts into laughter.
"Oh, how loyal. But we all know Haruto's in Kyoto right now for the tournament, don't we? Three days unsupervised... and you're here, all pretty and all alone." He takes another step. Reika tries to back away again, but she can't. The man with the chain blocks her left; the one with acne, her right.
"Do you know what we do with little princesses who think they're untouchable?" Reika grits her teeth.
"You wouldn't dare. If you touch me, I'll report you and..."
"Report you?" Nakajima laughs. "What proof? That innocent face that no one would believe wandered into an alley by herself?" The man with acne reaches for the ribbon on Reika's uniform.
"We're just going to show you a little bit of real life, President..." At that precise moment, a shadow stops in the alley's entrance.
A tall, broad-shouldered figure, the sun at its back. The wind stirs her wild black hair. Her lip piercing sparkles when she speaks.
"Am I interrupting something?"
The three turn around at once.
Nakajima opens his mouth to utter an automatic threat.
"Get out of here, this isn't…"
And then he sees his face.
The color drains from his face as if the blood had been drained.
"…R-Reiji… Reiji-san?"
The other two turn around as well. The one with the acne swallows audibly. The one with the chain takes a step back, his arrogance evaporating in a second.
"Reiji-senpai… what… what a coincidence…"
Reika looks up. Her dark violet eyes meet the gray ones of the newcomer. There is no relief in them; only a mixture of distrust and suppressed fear.
...
...
"YESSSSSSS! That's it, my big boy! Look how they're peeing all over each other! Take advantage of it, damn it, take advantage of it! Make mincemeat of them and then comfort the little princess with your…!"
"Shut up. You're sick. You're a spoiled brat with too much power."
"Hey, hey, hey! No swearing! I'm just cheering for the game! Besides, did you see what they called you? Reiji! It sounds super badass. It suits you perfectly."
"I don't care what people call me. And I'm not going to do what you want."
"But you don't even have to try! They're already afraid of you! Just being there makes you the alpha. Look at the girl, she's trembling… but she's also checking out your package, I'm telling you!"
"Stop it."
I take a step forward. My voice comes out deeper than I expected, hoarse, like I've smoked my whole life.
"What exactly were you going to do?" Nakajima tries to regain his composure, but his smile falters.
"N-nothing, Reiji-san. We were just... talking. High school stuff, you know?" The guy with the acne nods too quickly.
"Sure, sure. The student council president and we are... old acquaintances." The guy with the chain forces a nervous laugh.
"Besides, you don't get involved in these things anymore, do you? Not since Shibuya..."
I cross my arms. My muscles are bulging under my shirt. I don't smile.
"Don't make me repeat myself. What the hell were you going to do to her?"
Silence.
"Go on, Kazuo! Make them kneel! Make them apologize to her and then to you! Then you tell the girl, 'Don't worry, I'll protect you,' and…!"
"Will you shut the hell up? This isn't a game."
"Of course it's a game! And you're winning!"
Nakajima clears his throat.
"Look, Reiji-san, we don't want any trouble. We were just… joking around. She knows that."
Reika speaks for the first time since I arrived. Her voice is cold, but it trembles slightly.
"I wasn't joking."
The three of them stare at her as if she's just betrayed them.
I take another step. The alley seems to shrink.
"Last chance. Tell the truth or I'll start breaking things. And not the walls."
The guy with the acne shrinks back.
"We just... we just wanted to scare her a little. Because... because of last time, when she reported us for smoking behind the gym..."
"Liars," Reika says, quieter, but firm.
"That's it! Stand up for her, man! And then you can comfort her against your strong chest and...!"
"I swear, if you don't shut up, I'll find a way to rip your voice out, even if you're a goddess."
Nakajima raises his hands, sweating.
"Okay, okay... we wanted to... touch her a little. Nothing serious. Just so she'd learn not to act so smart."
The air grows heavy.
I look at Reika. She stares back at me without blinking, but her fingers are pressed so tightly against the folder they've turned white.
"Now, Kazuo! Hero moment! One epic punch and…!"
"No."
"What?"
"I'm not going to hit. Not like this." I take another step. My shadow falls upon the three of them.
"You're going to apologize. Now. On your knees. And then you're going to leave. And if I hear of you going near her again, or any other girl, I'll find you. And there won't be a next time." The three of them look at each other. Then, slowly, as if it were their life, they kneel on the dirty ground.
"W-we're sorry, President..."
"T-it won't happen again..."
Reika says nothing. She just stares at me. Her eyes are like two blades of ice.
And I... I just want to get out of here before the goddess turns this into something I don't want it to be.
The three of them bolted out of the alley as if I'd set their asses on fire. One tripped over a trash can, another slammed into a wall, and the third nearly hit the pavement. I didn't lay a finger on them; I only had to take one step closer and raise an eyebrow.
I turn to her. Reika is still pressed against the dumpster, her folder clutched to her chest like a shield. Her violet eyes study me suspiciously, but she's not trembling anymore. I take a deep breath and, without quite knowing why, my gaze softens.
"Be careful next time, President," I say quietly, almost politely. "This neighborhood isn't for well-to-do girls."
And I leave. Just like that. Without waiting for thanks, without looking back.
I step out of the alley and the street hits me again with noise and neon lights. People are murmuring, but this time it's not about me.
"…that was Kujou Reika, wasn't it?"
"The one from Seiran? What was she doing with those three?"
"They say the one who saved her was Reiji… the Reiji from Kabukichō…"
"Poor Haruto, if he finds out…" I shove my hands in my pockets and keep walking.
"Hahahahaha! Oh, Kazuo, you're such a tsundere! 'Be careful next time'… Please! That was the most heroic and cutest thing I've seen in ages!"
"You're unbearable."
"And she's following you! Turn your head, go on, you coward!"
I don't want to. But I turn.
And there she is.
Reika walks five meters behind me, back straight, chin held high, but her steps are hesitant. When our eyes meet, she jumps slightly and stops. She looks at me like a wolf that's just decided whether or not to bite.
"Stop following me around like a lost puppy," I say, without pausing.
I keep walking. And I hear her footsteps again. Faster this time, almost running to keep up.
"YES! I told you! The first one's fallen! This is better than a K-drama!"
I sigh so deeply my chest almost hurts.
"You're disgusting."
"Excuse me? I didn't do anything—...oops."
The idiot let it slip.
"Oops?" I repeat mentally, stopping dead in my tracks. "Oops what?"
"Nothing, nothing... Look how beautiful the moon is tonight!"
I turn so fast that Reika lets out a muffled gasp and takes a step back, as if she expects me to hit her. But she stays put, staring at me defiantly.
"Why are you following me?" I ask, my voice more tired than angry.
She presses her lips together. Then she takes a deep breath.
"Because… because you're not the same as before."
"Huh?"
"Reiji Ryūsei," she says, spitting out my supposed full name. "Two years ago, you expelled three seniors for selling pills at school. Last year, you broke a teacher's leg for touching a student. And three months ago…" she lowers her voice, "…you sent five yakuza to the hospital because they tried to recruit minors at the usual arcade. Everyone knows who you are. Everyone's afraid of you." She's silent for a second. Then she raises her chin again.
"But today... today you made three idiots kneel without hitting them. You made them apologize. And then... then you worried about me. That... that's not what monsters do." I cross my arms.
"So what do you want? A medal?"
"No." She takes a step toward me. Just one, but a brave one. "I want to understand why. Why someone like you bothered to save someone like me. Someone I should hate, according to everyone. Someone who represents everything you hate: rules, student councils, people who think they're better than everyone else..." Her voice cracks slightly at the end, but she doesn't look away.
"Because the last time someone saved me..." She swallows. "...it was my older brother. And after that, no one ever did. Not even my boyfriend when those three cornered me the first time, a year ago. He found out and... said I must have done something to provoke him."
Silence.
I just stare at her like an idiot.
She keeps talking, faster now, as if she's afraid I'm going to leave.
"I'm not asking you to be my hero. Or to protect me. I just... I just want to know if the Reiji everyone fears is dead. Or if he simply... never existed at all."
She bites her lip. A gesture so unlike the perfect president that it almost hurts to look at her.
"And if I follow you... it's because I have no one else to follow right now. And because... because for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel invisible."
She falls silent. The wind stirs her black hair and mine simultaneously.
Inside my head, the goddess is completely silent. For the first time since I woke up.
And I... I can only look at her.
And sigh again, deeper than ever.
"Damn..." I mutter.
Reika blinks.
"What?"
"Nothing," I say, scratching the back of my neck. "It's just... you're more of a pain than you look, Madam President."
And I keep walking.
But this time, very slowly.
And her footsteps sound again behind me.
In sync with mine.
...
...
Silence.
For the first time since I woke up, the goddess is completely silent.
And in that silence, a small, almost imperceptible smile appears on my face.
It's not joy. It's… tranquility.
As if I've finally found a corner of the world where no one asks anything of me.
The tall buildings disappear.
The streets narrow, the neon lights go out, and those typical houses from residential neighborhoods in anime series begin to appear: two stories, small balconies with flowerpots, bicycles leaning against the door, warm lights behind the curtains.
My brain (this brain that isn't entirely mine) recognizes the way.
"This way leads home," a part of me thinks, a part I don't fully control.
But there are still closed doors. Blocked memories.
I stop under a lamppost.
I turn my head.
Reika is standing three steps away, her hands clasped in front of her skirt.
"Are you a stalker or something?" I ask, half joking, half suspicious. "Have you been following me this whole time?"
She turns bright red.
"W-what?! Of course not! Idiot! I live here too! I've lived in this neighborhood since elementary school!"
I roll my eyes.
"Okay, okay. Message received." I turn around to take the left path, the one I assume leads to "my" house.
"Wait." Her hand grabs my sleeve. It barely touches the fabric, but I stay still.
"What do you want me to pay you first?" she asks without letting go. "Tell me something. Anything."
I was going to say "nothing," but suddenly a familiar voice echoes in my head.
"TELL HIM TO SUCK YOUR DICK IN THE PARK! TELL HIM TO KNEEL DOWN AND...!"
I freeze.
A tear (just one, hot and treacherous) slides down my left cheek.
The goddess's voice... after so much silence... hurts more than any scream.
Reika looks at me, scared.
"W-what's wrong...?"
"Nothing." I quickly wipe it away with the back of my hand. "I don't want anything."
She presses her lips together, clearly not believing it.
"I can... I can take you out for a bite to eat. Or... or help you with your grades. I know you fail almost everything and the teachers have you blacklisted, but..."
And suddenly, bam!, a memory unlocks like a door slamming open.
Reiji Ryūsei.
Third-year repeater.
Record of fights.
(False) rumor that his older brother is a yakuza, which is why no one expels him.
The teachers hate him, but they're terrified of him.
Average grade: 12 out of 100.
I chuckle softly, half-heartedly.
"Help me with my grades," I say before the goddess can open her mouth again.
"WHAT? SERIOUSLY? Grades? Are you crazy or what? I'm practically handing you a perfect girl and you're asking for... TUTORING?!"
"It's my life now," I answer calmly in my head. "I'm going to live it the hell I want. If you don't like it, kill me again. Go ahead."
"You fucking manipulator! You know I can't do that!"
"Exactly."
Reika looks at me, surprised, and then… she smiles.
A small smile, barely a lift of the corners of her mouth, but real.
And that smile cuts through me like a knife.
Because it's just like Mizuki's.
The first time she told me "I love you."
Right before everything went to shit.
Disgusting. Pure disgust.
But even so, my lips move on their own.
"You should smile more often, President. It suits you better than that permanent sour face."
And I turn around, this time going the opposite way.
"Wait, wait, wait! You're going the OPPOSITE way to your house, you idiot!"
"I don't feel like going home yet."
"But you just got a fantastic private tutor who's also crazy about you!"
"She's not crazy about me."
"Yes, she is! She smiled at you! She touched your sleeve! In Japan, that's practically a marriage proposal!"
"Shut up."
"And you're whining because she reminded you of an ex! For God's sake, Kazuo, you're a lost cause! You have a perfect body, a reputation that makes people wet themselves, and on top of that, you're playing the martyr! Enjoy yourself a little, damn it!"
"Enjoying yourself would be easy for someone like you, who's never lost anything."
"Touché, you idiot! But I'm not the one who's alive right now!"
"Exactly. I'm alive. And I'm going to do whatever I damn well please. Even if it's the most boring, the most stupid, and the furthest thing from what you want."
"You know what? Do whatever the hell you want. But when you're fucking the student council president in the empty classroom after 'studying' in three weeks' time, don't say I didn't warn you."
"It's never going to happen."
"Tell that to your erection every time it smiles at you."
"Shut up already."
And I keep walking, hands in my pockets, night falling, and a few meters behind, Reika's soft, determined steps, undecided about leaving.
...
...
I watch him walk away.
His broad back, his black hair swaying in the night breeze, his hands in his pockets as if nothing in the world could touch him.
And suddenly his words echo back in my head, clear and low:
"You should smile more often, Madam President. It suits you better than that permanent sour face."
I don't know why, but my cheeks feel hot.
I bring a hand to my face, as if I can hide it.
My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it's going to burst out of my chest.
I glance down at the floor, at my perfectly polished shoes… and a small, shy smile appears unbidden on my lips.
Idiot.
Idiot, idiot, idiot.
I start walking home, slower than usual.
That one phrase keeps running through my head, like a song I can't stop humming.
"It looks better on you..."
My phone vibrates in my blazer pocket. I pull it out quickly, my heart still racing.
Haruto ♡
I smile genuinely this time and swipe.
"Haruto-kun!"
"Hey, Reika. How are you?"
"Good! Listen, something incredible happened to me today. I was downtown and three idiots cornered me, but... someone helped me. And... I don't know, it was weird, because it was Reiji Ryūsei, you know who I mean? The one everyone's afraid of, but today was... different. He saved me without hitting anyone and then told me that..."
"Reika, wait. I'm exhausted, okay? Training was brutal today. We lost the first game by two points."
"Oh… I'm sorry. But…"
"And we have another one tomorrow at eight in the morning. The coach had us running until ten. I'm completely spent."
"I understand, but I just wanted to tell you that…"
"And what about you? Have you finished the cultural festival report yet? Because you said you'd have it by Friday."
"I… yes, but…"
"Great. Hey, my colleagues are calling me for dinner. I'll let you go, okay? We'll talk tomorrow."
"Haruto-kun, wait…" Click. The line cuts out.
I stand there, in the middle of the sidewalk, my phone still pressed to my ear.
The silence of the street suddenly feels like a ton of bricks.
I slowly lower my arm.
The smile I had a minute ago vanishes as if it had never existed.
I look at the screen: call ended, 0:47 seconds.
Forty-seven seconds.
That's how long it took my boyfriend to listen to me today.
I put my phone away.
I lower my head.
And I keep walking home, my shoulders hunched and my steps heavy, as if I suddenly weighed twice as much.
The streetlights reflect in the puddles on the sidewalk.
And in one of them, I see my face: pale, serious, with dull eyes.
The perfect president.
The perfect girlfriend.
The one who always has everything under control.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel…
invisible again.
...
...
The night is so quiet you can hear the hum of electrical wires.
Not a car, not a dog, not a voice. Only my footsteps and the voice of that woman who lives inside my head.
"…and then I said to Zeus, 'Are you bored with orgies too? Because I haven't had a decent shag in millennia.' And he turned as red as a tomato, can you believe it? A god! Red. Hahaha."
"Uh-huh."
"Are you listening or are you just making noises to shut me up?"
"Noises."
"Hey! That was rude even to you! Do you know how hard it was to get Aphrodite to lend me her magic mirror last century? Three sexual favors and a Trojan War!"
"That sounds harsh."
"Exactly! So show some respect, you reincarnated mortal."
I don't reply anymore.
The truth is… it doesn't bother me as much as before.
It's strange, but having someone talking, even if it's a crazy, horny goddess, is… comforting.
As if I weren't completely alone in this borrowed body.
"You know what, Kazuo?" Her voice suddenly lowers, becomes honeyed, almost a warm whisper in my ear. "I liked what you thought earlier. That you're glad I'm here chatting with you. That it makes you feel less alone… How sweet. You know I could create a beautiful physical body and come keep you company for real? You could touch me, smell my hair, take me to your bed and…"
"Shut up, damn it!"
"Ugh, how rude! It was just an offer! You don't need to yell at me, you ill-mannered person!"
She pretends to be offended, but I can hear her huffing like a little girl.
I keep walking.
I turn the corner and there it is.
The building is exactly like the picture someone planted in my head: two stories, beige facade with brown details, an exterior metal staircase that zigzags up, white railings, air conditioners hanging from each window like wasp nests.
Apartment 2B.
My new home.
I take out my keys (they're in my left pocket, as if they've always been there) and climb the metal steps that creak with every step.
I open the door.
I sigh.
It's not the pigsty of my old life, but close.
Asahi beer bottles strewn across the floor, overflowing ashtrays, open packs of cigarettes, a hardened pizza box on the coffee table… And right in the middle of the living room, clearly visible on the sofa: a pair of black lace panties.
"Ooh, look what we have here. You'll soon meet the owner, you pervert. I bet she's one of your 'friends' from high school. Or several. Did you take turns with them or was it an all-you-can-eat buffet?"
Stop.
I'm disgusted.
Not by the panties.
By myself.
By this place.
By remembering what my old room was like: the same smell of defeat, only with less style.
I take off my jacket, throw it on the floor, and start cleaning like a madman.
Bottles in a bag, ashtrays in the sink, crushed cigarette cartons in the trash.
"What are you doing, Kazuo? Have you had a housewife fit? Are you Marie Kondo, yakuza version, now?"
"I want to sleep without smelling like a brothel."
"But that's part of the charm! The smell of sex and rebellion! Leave the panties as a souvenir, man!"
"They're not mine, and I don't want them here."
"Well, wash them and give them back with a little note: 'Thanks for the night, Reiji with a heart!'"
I look at them for another second.
Then I pick them up with two fingers, as if they were burning me, and put them in the bag too.
I'll throw them away tomorrow if no one claims them.
I finish tidying up the essentials.
The place is still shabby, but at least it doesn't look like a crime scene anymore.
I go into the bedroom, flop back on the bed, and stare at the ceiling.
I'm dead tired.
Not physically.
Soul-tired.
I close my eyes.
And I wish, with all my might, for just one thing before I fall asleep:
"Please… let me wake up tomorrow and find myself back in my old room.
The dirty one. The disgusting one. The one that smelled of defeat and heroin.
Let all this have been just a very long and very cruel dream.
Let me get up, throw out all the crap, tidy everything up…
and start all over again.
For real this time."
The goddess says nothing.
And I fall asleep with that wish lodged in my chest like a bullet that never left.